


you lift my feet off the ground

by prettyeyedpiratesmile



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Baker Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural) Takes Things Literally, Dean Winchester Likes Taylor Swift, F/F, M/M, Slow Burn, Tattoo Artist Castiel (Supernatural), Wholesome, ignore half of these tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-29 02:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18769351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyeyedpiratesmile/pseuds/prettyeyedpiratesmile
Summary: Dean’s bakery has been on the corner of Elm and Main for years. He lives a content life with his friend Charlie, his brother Sam, and Sam’s husband Gabe. He loves the smell of freshly-baked apple pie, the cinnamon and spice wafting around his shop as he pulls the pie out of the oven. Most of all, he is perfectly happy without a girlfriend.But when the vacant shop next door is taken over by a guy with black hair and tattoos, Dean admits to himself that yes, he doesn’t want a girlfriend, but he might want a boyfriend…





	you lift my feet off the ground

**Author's Note:**

> forgive me for any typos, it's been a long day and i'm tired. there may be another work in this series soon! look forward to it if you like this one!

_❝I've never gone with the wind, just let it flow_  
_Let it take me where it wants_  
_'Til you opened the door, there's so much more_  
_I've never seen it before_  
_I was trying to fly but I couldn't find wings_  
_But you came along and you changed everything❞_

There is a shop on the corner of Elm Boulevard and Main Street. The shop has been there for more than five years; it’s small but not too small, with light blue trim and yellow letters spelling out ‘Winchester’s Pies’ and under that in smaller letters ‘locally owned and run by Dean Winchester and Charlie Bradbury’. The doors are glass, and passersby can see into the shop, where many people young and old alike are sitting on the handcrafted wood tables inside, enjoying the food. On this warm spring day, the smell of pies baking and coffee brewing drifts out from the open windows, enticing visitors to come in from the sidewalk and try the delicious confections.

The owner, Dean, bustles around the shop’s kitchen in a blue and white checkered apron, shaking different ingredients into a big metal mixing bowl. The kitchen is a hive of activity, with only three workers- including Dean himself- baking pies. Dean whisks together flour and butter, along with a dash of cinnamon and a pinch of nutmeg. He vigorously blends the mixture together, and if a little of it falls over the counter’s edge and onto the yellow and blue tiled floor below- well, that’s nobody else’s business. He can run his shop how he likes.

In a little while, the pies are safely in the oven, the handmade crusts crimped and the smell of pies baking mixing with the smell of the flowers outside, Dean leans back on the counter and sighs. The sigh is a sigh of a job well done, and Charlie, the redheaded employee who’s the only one left in the kitchen with Dean, knows the sigh well.

“Well, we finally finished up the orders for today,” she says, smiling brightly. “Want me to close up, or are you staying late to work on your new recipe for rhubarb-cinnamon pie?”

Dean grins at her, dusting flour from his apron. “I think I’ll close up, but will you let the rest know that they can go home for the day? It’s almost closing time, and I’m not going to stay much longer ‘cause I gotta get to Sam and Gabe’s baby shower.”

Charlie bounces on her tiptoes, her excitement evident. “I’m so happy for them! Tell them I said congrats, will you? Besides,” here she leans in conspiratorially, “I always knew they were going to get together. They’re my OTP!”

Dean needs a few seconds to remember what OTP stands for, but once he grabs it from a file in the back of his brain labeled ‘Charlie’s ship terms’ he remembers: One true pairing.

Dean follows Charlie to the front of the shop as she hangs her apron up and grabs her jacket, shrugging it around her shoulders. “You’re saying I’m never going to be a part of one your OTPs or ships?” he jokes. Of course, he knows he doesn’t date enough- or even any- people, so the chances of Charlie having a ship involving him are nil.

Curiously enough, as Dean stands with his hands on his hips, faking an annoyed air, Charlie winks and says, “Someday, Dean. Someday…”

She slips out the door without another word, only turning to flash him the Star Trek salute. Dean does the same back and unwraps his apron, hanging it on the rack next to the entrance. He wipes down the tables, taking care with each one, and cleans the kitchen, making sure to get the flour he spilled earlier. When he’s done, he stands back and surveys his work proudly. He thinks back to the day he got this shop, and how proud Sam was. That was five years ago now… A lot had changed in those five years. Sam had come out, he’d met Gabriel Novak, and Sammy had gotten himself married! Dean never thought Sam’d get married, but he was pleasantly surprised. When Sam had announced that he and Gabe were planning to adopt, Dean had a few questions about which adoption agency would accept two married men, but he knew Sam would be an amazing father, and Gabe obviously loved Sam, so Dean helped them research for an agency that would accept them. Eventually they found one, and they were going to get a baby in less than two months. Dean was insanely happy for them; in fact, he was insanely happy in general. His life was a blissful dream: he got to do what he loved in a shop he loved, he got to work with the friends he loved, and most of all, he was going to be an uncle in two months! Dean was floating on air.  
Not even the fact that he didn’t feel romantically or sexually inclined didn’t bother him. Who needed a girlfriend anyway? Not Dean, he was livin’ the dream.  
As he closed and locked the shop’s doors behind him, he noticed a moving truck next to the vacant shop next door to his. Apart from wondering what was going on there and hoping that whoever was setting up wouldn’t mess with his shop, he didn’t think much about it before hurrying away to Sam’s baby shower.

\----------------------------------------------------------

“Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-“

Dean reaches over and slams the snooze button on his alarm clock, dragging a hand across his face and groaning. Dean is tired from a long night at Sam’s and a fun baby shower- not to mention the week of work. He hates opening the shop early on Fridays, but if he wants to accommodate his earlier customers before work, it has to be done. He throws aside his covers, takes a quick shower, and dresses, all in the span of 10 minutes, before walking out of his apartment and sliding into Baby, his Impala. Dean breathes in the smell of leather and spice that’s so uniquely Baby’s smell before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out of the driveway.  
Soon, he parks near the shop and walks down the sidewalk, smiling to himself as the sky lightens to orange and the sun rises, smiling on the rooftops. Dean whistles a tune under his breath as he unlocks the door and strolls inside.

A couple hours later, the early morning rush is over, and the regular languid stream of customers is arriving. Dean serves everyone their drink and pie with a smile, but when Charlie bursts in the door, he gives her an almost-comical frown, reserved only for when Charlie is late.

However, he can’t fool Charlie; she knows that he isn’t all that disappointed with her and she rushes over, quickly tying on her apron. Dean raises his eyebrow at her and she responds with “My nephew broke his arm and had to go to the hospital.”

Dean furrows his forehead and says, “If you want more time off, you can have it -your nephew is the top priority.” Ben is Charlie’s nephew, and Dean shares many fond memories of him with Charlie; once, they had him try to bake a pie in the kitchen, and Dean was cleaning up apple goo from the corners long afterward, but it was worth it. Charlie looks after him when her sister, Lisa, has to work, which is very often. Lisa’s nice; Dean’s only met her once or twice, but he guesses that if she’s raised a son like Ben, she can’t be all that bad.

Charlie smiles and says, “He’ll be fine. Guess how he broke his arm.”

“Um… climbing a tree?”

“Nope,” Charlie responds, laughing. “He tried to punch this kid that said Star Trek sucked, but he punched the wall instead.”  
Dean laughs too, dramatically taking a breath. “A man after my own heart,” he jokes, and Charlie playfully punches him in the shoulder before heading to the cashier position.  
__________________________________________________________________________________

All in all, the day’s pretty much over when Dean mops up the tiles. He makes friendly conversation with the last people clearing out, and eventually the shop is empty except for him and Charlie. They decide to kick back on a table with a couple of cups of coffee while they talk about nothing in particular. Charlie’s just into the middle of recounting her date last night- “She was an absolutely insufferable know-it-all!”- when there is a knock on the door. Dean calls out without looking. “We’re closed, sorry! We reopen tomorrow morning at six o clock!”

Whoever is at the door responds with, “I’m your new neighbor, I think- do you want me to stop by tomorrow morning?”

Dean has been mildly curious about the new shop next door to his all day, so he rises from his chair and says, “Hold on, I’ll be right there!” He unlocks the door and in steps a man about the same age and height as Dean is. His hair is inexplicably all over the place, but it’s his clothes that Dean notices first. They’re workout clothes- a light gray shirt and a pair of athletic shorts with running sneakers. An intricately detailed tattoo that looks like chains winds down the man’s left bicep and forearm, and Dean can’t help but admire it.

The man clears his throat. “Excuse me?”

With a start, Dean forces himself to stop checking sex-hair guy out and invite him inside. He waves to him and motions him over the threshold into the shop, where Charlie stands, curiously tapping her nails on the counter.

“Have a seat,” Dean squeaks. Hey, he’s intimidating. Not to mention undeniably handsome.

“Thank you,” he replies, sliding onto one of the wooden stools at the counter. Sex-hair guy holds out his hand and Dean shakes it, trying to hide his blush.

“I just set up shop next door to you and I had to come visit- your place is beautiful. My name’s Castiel Milton and I’m from Boston, Massachusetts,” Castiel- what a weird name- says.

Dean sounds out the name, liking the way the consonants roll around his mouth before he says them. “Nice to meet you, Castiel. I’m Dean, and this shop is my baby.”

Charlie interjects before Dean can say anything else, popping into the conversation so Dean can take a moment to become less noticeably flustered. “He also calls his car Baby too. I dunno, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he calls everything inanimate that he’s attached to! Name’s Charlie, by the way- Charlie Bradbury.”

Castiel (wow, Dean might never get used to that name) shakes Charlie’s hand and is engaged in animate discussion with her when there is a strike of lightning, and then a boom of thunder not long after. All three of them look outside, where a storm is raging. The rain pours onto the gray road, and the trees’ spring flowers drip with rain.  
Dean looks at Castiel, who looks at Charlie, who looks back at Dean. Feeling obliged to speak, Dean says, “How are you going to get back to your home? It’s raining cats and dogs out there!”

Castiel chuckles and says, “I live in the apartment above my shop. I should be fine as long as I quickly run over before it gets any worse.”

Dean thinks that over for a minute and wonders what Castiel’s shop sells in the first place, and then decides to just ask him instead of being a coward.  
Cas is shrugging on his coat on, and Dean can’t help but admire the muscles that- damn- the coat covers up.

“Hey, Castiel, what’s your shop?” Dean queries.

Cas smiles, a full smile, and winks at Dean. “It’s a tattoo shop. And you can call me Cas.”

They probably could have just left it at that, seeing as all they really needed to do was talk to each other for a bit and become acquaintances. They probably would have just left it at that, if it wasn’t for Ben.

A couple days after Dean meets Cas, Dean’s babysitting Ben while he fills orders for pies over the weekend. Lisa has to attend a funeral, and Dean loves hanging out with the precocious ten-year-old, so he volunteers to watch him.

“Uncle Dee, who’s that?” Ben points out the window, and Dean walks over to stand by him and peer out. Cas is standing on a ladder, painting the trim of his new shop. His hair looks like he’s just rolled out of bed, which Dean has come to realize is his signature look.

“That’s Cas. He owns the shop right next to mine, and he’s really nice,” Dean answers, stretching out the e in really so that Ben laughs. Dean pokes the corner of Ben’s smile, they dissolve into a frenzy of tickling, and Dean forgets all about the mysterious Castiel while he rolls around on the floor, tickling Ben’s stomach.

A half hour later, when they’re both covered in flour and giggling breathlessly, Dean calls a truce and stands up. Dean’s joints creak; he groans. Ben hops up in less than a second. Perks of being young, Dean guesses. Even though Dean’s only thirty-seven, he’s not as fit as he was 10 years ago. He’s got to blame that on baking pies all week, and he makes a note to resume his workouts in the morning- he’s slacked off for a couple weeks, what with the frenzy of a new neighbor and his schedule.  
Ben skips around the shop, counting steps, and Dean keeps on rolling out pie crusts, trying to get the perfect flaky but not too flaky crust. Sometime over the last few days, a jar has popped up on his counter, and it’s already half-filled with coins and dollar bills. Dean has no idea what it’s for, because his tip jar is by the window. The only time he asked Charlie, she shushed him and told him that it was ‘none of his business’. Dean rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he thinks about it; she was almost as much of a mystery as Castiel next door. Speaking of Castiel…

Dean hasn’t been able to forget Castiel. No matter what he does, how much he bakes, how much he babysits Ben, he can’t drive him out of his mind. Kinda weird, considering Dean’s only met the man once, and made friendly small talk with him a couple other times. Castiel has a dry, snarky wit that Dean likes; his mannerisms fluid and graceful.

Dean wants to just leave them as acquaintances. He can’t summon the effort it would take to make them matter more to each other than they do now; caring and love is only something that Dean’s familiar with platonically. He feels something drawing him closer to Castiel, though. A burst of stars in his heart, thrumming through his body, pulling him magnetically to Cas, like the universe is telling Dean that Cas is his galaxy. And Dean can’t resist the fragmented nebulas sparkling between them, the indigo blue and twinkling silver, the swirling purple and black. When the universe wills two people together, they are bound; not by chains, not by ropes, not even by string, but by consciousness, their thoughts intertwining until they’re so tightly wound that not even heartbreak can untangle them. Simply put: Dean can’t stay away from Cas, no matter how much he wishes he could.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few months and eventually years, Cas is there for Dean during many trials and discoveries. Castiel’s one of those friends you can’t remember making. Somewhere along the way, Dean goes to Castiel’s shop with a pie to (as Charlie puts it) pie-seduce him, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. During that visit, Dean not only gains permission to call Castiel Cas, he also gains a new friend. Dean’s not lacking in friends, but this one definitely tops most.  
Dean is also there for Cas through it all, and their friendship remains solid. Cas helps Dean figure out that Dean’s demiromantic and bisexual, and in turn Dean’s there for Cas when Dean finds out that Cas is pansexual and aromantic. Charlie, of course, is there for both of them, saying that she’s their resident lesbian/gay expert. Dean and Cas share a laugh at this.

Cas is, of course, present when Dean discovers the perfect rhubarb-cinnamon combination, and they dance around the kitchen covered in flour and cinnamon.  
On a Wednesday, they’re sitting on the stools by the counter when the sunlight hits Cas’s face just right; his eyes are as blue as the sky, and his long lashes gracefully silhouette his cheekbones. Dean wants to push Cas up against the counter and kiss Cas’s pink lips, but mercifully Charlie walks in.

On a Sunday, Cas gives Dean his first tattoo, and they both crack up when Dean is so nervous that he winces before the needle even touches him. Dean insists that Cas surprise him with the tattoo; Cas eventually finishes the tattoo, and the resulting smile on Dean’s face when he sees that it’s Led Zeppelin lyrics is exuberant.  
Every day, they learn more about themselves and about each other, and the fact that Cas only seems to want to be friends makes Dean want to kiss him more.  
Time, however, whether it be on the creamy pale background with numerals of an old-fashioned clock or on the digital neon letters of an alarm clock, always ticks on, constantly, relentlessly; it has done so for as long as the world has been turning, and it will continue to do so long after we are gone.

I suppose it must be the same for Dean and Cas, as it always is. No exceptions, no pauses. Time doesn’t stop for them, as it doesn’t stop for anyone else.  
The mysterious jar has been filled with money countless times, so Dean labels it with: ‘Not a Tip Jar. Please no Money’, but even though he doesn’t ever catch anyone putting money in it, the quantity of coins and one-dollar bills- sometimes even fives- grows by the day. Dean still doesn’t know what it’s for.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Dean, do you believe in God?” Cas asks one rainy day. The weather outside is dismal and dreary; the rain patters the windows continually and the sun is nowhere to be found. The bright yellow of the shop’s walls and entrance is the only spot of light, save for a candle on the counter. No one’s come in today- Dean doesn’t know why he’s keeping the shop open except out of futile hope that a customer will seek refuge from the steady pitter-patter that beats the tile roof.

“Hmm?” Dean absentmindedly twirls his coffee cup, watching as the dregs swirl their dusty brown around the bottom of the mug.

“Do you believe in God, Dean?” Cas repeats, his blue eyes tinted navy.

Dean leans back in his chair and thinks for a minute. “It’s not that I don’t believe in God,” he eventually says, “it’s that I want to believe. Wanting to believe and blind faith are two different things.”

Cas nods. “Fair enough,” he responds. “I believe in God,” Cas continues, “not because he’s actually all-knowing or omniscient or whatever, but because I need to believe that there’s destiny and fate. I need to believe good things are planned for everyone, no matter what. I need to believe everyone has a bright spot in their future.”

Dean smiles and takes a sip of his coffee. “Cas,” he says, “you don’t need to believe in God to believe in destiny. I know I was destined to meet you.”

Cas smiles, but there’s a trace of something sad in his eyes that makes Dean want to hold him until he’s better.

“Me too.”

The jar on the counter is bursting with money now. No matter how many times Dean tries to stop people from putting money in it, he can never quite catch anyone in the act. Dean tries hiding the jar, but it’s just right back on the counter the next day. Dean has absolutely no idea what it’s for, and neither does Cas. Charlie seems to know more than she lets on, but Dean doesn’t press the matter.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s a warm spring day much like the one they met when Dean wakes up thinking of Cas’s pitch-black hair and Cas’s deep voice and realizes he’s been in love with Cas for months, maybe years. He tells Charlie this, and she says that if the urge to kiss Cas senseless and run Dean’s hands through Cas’s hair wasn’t enough for Dean to make a move, then she has failed as the Local Lesbian Love Expert.

“But what do I do, Charlie?” Dean whines, tracing the grains in the wooden counter. The rich resin swirls and whorls, brown merging with oak, oak darkening to mahogany.

“You kiss him, duh.” Charlie widens her eyes at Dean. “What have I taught you? Nothing?”

“We-ell…” Dean hedges.

Charlie sighs. “I see I’ve actually taught you nothing. Better go work on Cas instead.” She walks out, bopping Dean on the nose as she passes by him.

It’s only seven minutes later that Cas comes in Dean’s shop, looking nervous as all hell. Dean laughs. “Whatever Charlie told you, you don’t gotta do it, ya know?” he says.  
Cas shrugs, wrinkling his nose. “Let’s go sit on the bench outside.”

Dean follows Castiel outside and they both plop down on the bench outside Dean’s shop.

“Listen, man,” Dean says, “I, um, don’t want to make you do anything you don’t have to, but, uh, I-“

“Shut up, Dean,” Castiel says, and Dean shuts up, afraid he’s made Castiel mad and that Cas won’t want to be his friend anymore. That would surprise Dean, ‘cause they’ve been through a lot together, but anything can happen.

Cas stands up and pulls Dean up. And then he kisses Dean.

He’s warm and tastes like apple pie and mint. Dean’s happy, happier than he knew he could ever be. Dean couldn’t be more excited for whatever will come next.  
Meanwhile, Charlie takes the jar of money off the counter. She doesn’t need to say anything else- she’s won the bet.

 

 _❝You lift my feet off the ground_  
_You spin me around_  
_You make me crazier, crazier_  
_Feels like I'm falling and I'm lost in your eyes_  
_You make me crazier❞_


End file.
